


The Warden

by MistyEyedCrow



Series: Misty's Complete Collection of One-shots [18]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Architechs, Caves, Mild Angst, Mild Horror, Mostly because of the thought of it, Mumbo's in a bit of a spot of bother, Other, because wardens are pure nightmare fuel, but hey at least he learnt cool things, gone wrong, minecraft warden, redstone god seeks knowlege, skulk sensor, terrifying things aren't they, this became a halloween oneshot because im slow, vibration sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:35:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27310549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyEyedCrow/pseuds/MistyEyedCrow
Summary: The deep dark was the most talked-about topic among the young adventurers, drinking in the tales woven together in the dimmest taverns. Tales of a monster so terrifying that no one ever escaped its home, another beast to slay. Most adventurers wanted the glory of that kill, the gold rumoured to be hidden in the warden's lair.But Mumbo was looking for something else.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Misty's Complete Collection of One-shots [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996384
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	The Warden

There were tales whispered in the corners of the dimmest taverns, by the flickering light of rusty lanterns, spoken amongst the bravest of adventurers. Tales of the deepest and darkest part of the world, of a series of caves so far down that those who searched for it and gave up swore they were one block away from the void. Caves full of the greatest treasure they could almost taste it, they claimed, but guarded by a monster so terrifying that no one who actually entered the caves had ever made it back alive.

Most of the bright-eyed adventurers drinking in the stories simply craved fame, fresh out of training and yearning for the glory. Wanting to be the first to slay the guardian of the caves, boasting their achievements amongst their competing peers. Others just wanted to find the treasure themselves, to fill their own pockets with greed and gold, so they could live comfortably for the rest of their lives.

He was no such adventurer.

When he first expressed his interest in finding the deep dark, none of his friends took him seriously. After all, he was a man of science, with no real taste for blood or violence. He was the tall, gangly kid who could barely block a hit from Grian, and Grian wasn't even good at fighting. He was not like the rest of the bloodthirsty adventurers. Why on earth would he ever want to venture into the deep dark?

Those conversations were stale now, a faint memory from his past. He could barely remember the teasing laughs of his friends at his confession, the pain in their voices as they tried again to persuade him against it the night before he left. That last night where pleas eventually turned into submissive silence, arms tightening around his trembling body, keeping his untamed fear away. He was afraid, he had been afraid, but nothing could have changed his mind at that moment.

Sometimes, when the groans of the undead above died down, when silence ran unchallenged, he could almost picture their faces. Flashes of warmth and longing melting back into familiar darkness, laugh echoing painfully and hauntingly around him. Flashes of red and green, of nights spent coming up with ways for the three of them to conquer the world in their own way, together. He missed them, he missed the whole life he'd left behind. He couldn't remember what sunlight even felt like against his skin, or how the stars twinkled in nonsensical patterns they drew up themselves until their side hurt from laughing. 

But then again, he didn't need to see them anymore.

Taking a step forward, the splash of water beneath his feet burst into a bright blue ripple of colour, thinning back out into silence. The answering calls of the skulks were reassuring now, a familiarity after void knew how long he'd been down here, just to unlock their secrets.

See, he was an innovator at heart, building and designing complex things that Grian and sometimes even Iskall never understood, all in his mind, lost in his own world even through his training as a kid. When he first heard of the tales of the deep dark, what fascinated him wasn't the existence of some fantastical monster to defeat. No, it was the way that monster was rumoured to sense its prey, through vibrations of a block so rare that it only existed in that accursed place. While his peers spent their free time gossiping of the best ways to defeat such a creature, he spent his time jotting down way on how they could use that technology.

The journey had been worth it, in the end. When he first found the deep dark, he could barely believe it, a sort of hope warming his heart through his shivering frame, breaking him out of the hopeless cycle he'd found himself stuck in, in those twisting caves before. Funnily enough, he never came across those monsters they claimed to exist, even as he dropped down quietly into the cave with his white-feathered boots. Instead, he was immediately overwhelmed by the calls of the skulks, like low growls that warned against his arrival. He remembered being scared out of his mind, squeezing his eyes shut as his heart thudded erratically in his chest, pushing back into painfully sharp rocks until the sound of skulks simmered back into silence. 

Over time, though, he had come to understand their foreign language, knowing what he could and couldn't do around those skulks. He listened carefully to their calls, repeated their triggers over and over in his mind till they etched themselves permanently in his brain. He didn't bother to open his backpack of food, knowing the skulks could hear those movements and call forth an even greater threat, forcing himself into a state of peace instead until the hunger ebbed away into a dull ache he could push to the back of his mind. He discovered they could hear him when he tapped two fingers along the ground, but not if his pinky tapped gently against his thigh, tapping out the names of his friends like a coded message to the future him over and over again until they lost all meaning to him.

_Tap._

There was no meaning in remembering.

_Tap._

In a way, he could almost consider this place his home. He could not remember how long he'd been down there, but he knew he couldn't leave until he had finally understood the skulks, until he could master their communication in such a way that he could replicate it up there, for the better use of the people of the overworld. And when his hesitant double tap against the ground, after another hundred thousand numbers counted down in his mind, flashed with electric blue zaps, he told himself he wouldn't leave until he could be sure it was all they had to teach.

_Tap tap._

He couldn't bear to leave.

The almost foreign sound of breaking blocks startled him, head tilting unsteadily in the direction of those faint vibrations. He could feel the skulks around him awaken in interest, listening too to those strange sounds he never thought he'd hear again, silent as if awaiting his signal. If he focused hard enough, he could make out the fearful breaths above, could remember a time when he himself was digging around the caves, searching for the deep dark. This time, though, the caves were not empty. And he didn't know what he would do if they found the caves.

"He has to be here. His suit got caught on that rock." The voice was sharp, piercing through the haze that he barely even noticed as if unearthing all the parts of him that were long buried down fruitlessly. Some part of him wondered if he should recognize those loud whispered voices, the words 'wrong' overwhelming his thoughts until it was all he could think about, until his hands curled into fists, sharp pain blooming from his fingertips.

Red and green swirls emerged from the ceiling above, getting louder with every broken block.

"Oh- oh dear. Grian?" Mumbo felt his head veer heavily to one side, listening hard at the sound of falling stone bouncing off the ground. Every part of his instincts was shouting at him to go towards that coloured swirl, the skulks bristling as each second passed and he still hadn't moved. He couldn't bring himself move.

"We have to find him. Mumbo! Are you there?" Before, he would not have heard the stranger's silent landing on the stone, one landing a little heavier than the other. But after how long he'd spent in the dark, learning the language of the skulks, he could see the tiny waves a good few metres away, his feet only now beginning their slow trudge forward towards the sound.

He could almost hear the two beating hearts stutter for a moment as heat from a torch flashed across his face, their soft footfalls halting instantly. "Mumbo?" One voice blurted out, shock and fear in his voice, bursting into blood red.

He paused. Who was Mumbo?

The voice continued, taking a step forward. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to chase them or run away. "Mumbo, what happened to you? We've been searching for months, when you never came back." He could feel the hairs on his back raise, alert, the skulks all shaking angrily at the intrusion, at too much noise.

"Grian..." The green voice was low, a warning. The other didn't listen.

"We missed you, Mumbo."

At the feeling of hands touching his arms, he could feel the instant change in the skulks, their voices rising into indignant growls that shouted their anger through his mind. His own arms shot up in response, pushing the stranger away with panic in his chest, heart beating too fast. A loud 'boom' knocked him backwards onto the ground, clawed hands coming up to cover the sharp hurt in the top of his head, finger curled around the growing sensors, too much noise shooting out in a colourful display of technicolour bursts. Through the haze of pain, he could barely make out some words of grating green, like little jabs into his skull.

"Gri- ...run, too strong... -e's gone."

The sound of frantic fireworks only made him curl in on himself, head spinning from the pain. As the pain ebbed away slowly, his mind counting down the numbers like a comforting clock, he became all too aware of the damning silence. He got up to his feet slowly, feeling the skulks begin to calm back in the silence, already forgetting the presence of strangers.

He trudged back slowly to where the man was before, hands still holding onto the dull ache in his head. His feet tripped over some sort of broken statue, only catching himself on the wall opposite him, panting in his weakened state. He couldn't be weak when the next one came to hurt him, he thought distantly, pushing himself back into standing. Pressing the fresh wounds on his hands with the blunt pad of his fingers, thinking, thinking. He had to be ready for the next victim who dared venture into his cave.

The sound of dripping water echoed hollowly in the barren caves, a damning trail etched down his cheeks. 

**Author's Note:**

> My promise to myself at the start of the year was at least one story a month, to encourage myself to never give up on writing. Though I may have missed the deadline in my country, I haven't in some parts of the world still :)
> 
> This idea was born out of a tweet of someone saying that the warden mob had Mumbo's moustache... so there came the idea that Mumbo IS the warden!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story! My eyes are closing so I hope I'm coherent :"")


End file.
